


America Does Not Consider Privacy

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hetalia Axis Powers: England really just needs a little private time. To take care of business. To polish the old instrument.</p>
            </blockquote>





	America Does Not Consider Privacy

**Author's Note:**

> To have a wank.

Oh, good God, the thoughts he is thinking right now are most certainly not appropriate. And no, no, oh goodness, no, he should definitely not be thinking them, but-

Oh, blast it.

England lies back, reaching up and removing his glasses; these he sets aside, on his bedside table. He shifts his position in bed, feeling the flannel of his pyjamas rub against his skin. He is warm, but that has nothing to do with the thickness of the cloth.

Good God, America has just grown so  _big_. So- broad. So- pleasing, to the eye.

England closes his eyes, pressing his head to the pillow, and he slowly lets his hand slide down, under the waistband of his pyjama trousers. He takes in a little inhalation, palm running over the little blond hair there before going lower: England wraps his hand around himself and lets out a very soft sigh. It might hold the tiniest  _ghost_  of a moan.

And no, it might not be appropriate, but America is taller than him, and ah, the way it makes England feel is positively obscene. The ridiculous jackets aside and rudeness, America is simply so terribly beguiling, and it simply isn’t fair (and it is oh so very wrong).

He begins to speed the movement of his hand, keeping his eyes tightly closed. To think of it; America nude, with those silly bloody clothes cast aside, nude, and perhaps- wet. Yes, a wet America, shivering a little, skin glistening, hair clinging to his head-

That is a terribly nice thought.

His breath catches, hitches, in the back of his throat, and he feels the sensation coil in his stomach - he does not do this very often, he really doesn’t, but when he  _does_ -

"Hey, buddy! I knew you’d gone to bed but dude, you just have to look at this new-" The door is thrown open and England feels the draught, but worse he hears America’s infuriatingly chipper tones.

"Get out, you  _utter_  wanker!” England wrenches his hand from his trousers.

"Aren’t you the "wanker" here, man?" America laughs, and England throws a pillow at him, feeling the swift flush to his own cheeks. Ridiculous twat! How dare he!

"Out! Out! You insolent little thing!"

"Little? Me?" The bastard has the gall to laugh at him.

"Hate to break it to ya, dude, but out of us two I’m not the little one!" America has dropped his videogame case on England’s chest of drawers, and now he slides forwards, climbing on top of England, putting hands on either side of the other’s hips.

England is really not sure how to react to this.

"You want me to prove it?" America asks, and England stares up at him.

"What!?" He all but squawks the word, but then America grinds himself down, against England, and draws a choked from the man beneath him. "America!" He barks, and America recoils slightly, his eyes widening, betraying a little worry. "Bloody hell, man, at least close the door first."

"Oh." America grins. "Okay!"


End file.
